Shushed
by thegenuineimitation
Summary: Arthur's blabbering is about to get them both caught but the Prince will not shut up, so Merlin makes him. Fluff. Slash M/A. A sort of sequel to Silenced.


**Shushed**

**Summary: Arthur's blabbering is about to get them both caught but the Prince will not shut up, so Merlin makes him. Fluff. Slash M/A.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin

**Author's Note:** A sort of sequel to Silenced.

* * *

Merlin twitched nervously glancing around their small camp in the middle of the woods. The sliver of moon and any light it may have provided were obscured by dark roiling clouds. They would be lucky, Merlin thought morosely, if they didn't get rained on and being in the heart of Cenred's kingdom Merlin didn't dare risk a fire.

In the distance a twig cracked, and Merlin started like a skittish horse.

If it were any other night Merlin would not be nearly so perturbed because the camp was defended by Arthur, who's prowess in battle was legendary and in whose hands Merlin had placed his own life countless times. On this night, however, Arthur had what looked to be a few cracked ribs and a mess load of bruising up and down his sides, an unfortunate result of a rather vicious encounter with one of Cenred's patrols earlier that day, and as such was dosed with the only medicine Merlin was capable of making effectively in the unfamiliar woods, a suspension of poppy in alcohol. The draft had the effect of dulling Arthur's pain down to nearly nothing while they rode hell for leather for Camelot's borders, unfortunately it also had the effect of making him well and truly foxed, and then sent him to sleep. Merlin was not confident that Arthur was in any shape to handle so much as a curious rabbit in his current state, and he didn't dare use his magic as Cenred had found himself a genuine witchfinder and he'd already almost been caught.

Another snap had Merlin darting for the cover of the thick bushes under which Arthur was passed out, curling up next to the sleeping prince and trying not to make a sound.

As it turned out his fears of discovery were not unfounded because moments later a small elite patrol consisting of three men and the witchfinder entered the clearing Merlin had just vacated.

"Do you sense anything now?" demanded one of the men impatiently.

The witchfinder turned in a slow circle.

"I sense a magic user has is in the area but unless the wretch uses its powers I could be standing right in front of it and never know," sneered the witchfinder spitting on the ground disdainfully.

Merlin winced and tried to press himself closer to Arthur without making a sound.

"You think the sorcerer is with the Princeling?" asked another man.

"Not unless Uther is so senile and desperate to end magic he's sending teams to hunt down sorcerers outside his own borders, regardless of potential retaliation for his interference," sneered the last man in a husky broken voice.

"Come on we'll head a bit farther in look for a trail," ordered the first man.

The patrol stalked away with only a rustle of leaves and the occasional sharp snap of a stray twig to betray them. Still Merlin held his breath his whole body tense.

"Merlin," groaned Arthur.

His blue eyes fluttered open, glazed over with pain and medication.

"Arthur," whispered Merlin alarmed.

"Whoa, your eyes are very wide...why are we whispering," said Arthur in a very loud imitation of a whisper.

"Shush!" Merlin hissed frantically putting a finger to his lips to indicate quiet.

"Where are we anyway?"

"We're in a forest about to be caught by Cenred if you don't shut up!"

"You can't tell me to shut up Merlin, I am the crown prince of Camelot," he grunted as he tried to sit up and Merlin stopped him, a testament to just how weak he actually was.

"You hear something Shank?" came the voice of one of the men in the patrol.

"And as such I order you to help me up and make the ground stop moving!" demanded Arthur much too loudly.

"Yeah, I think I did, back the way we came..."

Merlin was in between a rock and a hard place, Arthur was too intoxicated to know when to shut his royal yap, they were about to be discovered and probably killed or tortured and then killed, and he couldn't do a thing about it because if he used his magic the witchfinder would find them.

"Why are you laying on me under this bush anyway?" asked Arthur wrinkling his nose in confusion, "Because really Merlin you need a bath you...mmph!"

Merlin leaned forward into the last inch or so of space separating him from Arthur and pressed his lips against Arthur's, smooshing them together forcefully to keep Arthur from dislodging him before it was safe.

The two patrolmen entered the clearing once more, swords drawn scanning the deep shadows of the trees and scrutinizing the lee of the rocks.

"Damnit all to hell, they must've slipped by us!" snapped the brawnier of the two.

"Better notify the witchfinder we're hot on their tails now for sure!"

Merlin and Arthur remained pressed together like that for a long while after until Merlin thought they were probably safe and disengaged his lips from Arthur's slightly parted mouth in order to slump in boneless relief atop the prince.

"Arthur, I think they're gone," Merlin whispered into his master's ear, "Arthur?"

Alarmed by the lack of response Merlin propped himself up on one elbow to better study the prince in question.

"I don't believe it," the warlock muttered to himself flopping back down, careful to avoid Arthur's ribs.

There was only a soft whistling snore from Arthur as a response.

* * *

**AN:** In no way does this one-shot advocate mixing opiates and alcohol! That being said please review and let me know what you think!


End file.
